


SEXY DEPRESSION SYLVAIN GAUTIER

by diluc



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ballroom Dancing, Dancer Sylvain Jose Gautier, Drabble Collection, Epic Friendship, Felix Hugo Fraldarius Swears, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Child Abuse, Sickfic, Super Smash Bros. Ultimate, Sylvain Week 2020, Tsundere Felix Hugo Fraldarius, dimitri knows the word thot, everyone plays smash, it's not graphic though, mentions of trauma, no beta we die like Glenn, sylvain gets affectionately bullied, there's blood but it's not too graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22975264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diluc/pseuds/diluc
Summary: A drabble collection written for Sylvain Week 2020 on Twitter!Current chapter: day 7: free day - modernFelix shakes his blue joycon in triumph. “This is no game for half-baked novices, Sylvain. You fucking suck at smash.”“Yeah, at least I can play Tekken, you closeted Kirby main!”Dimitri’s shoulders shake in chuckles. “Closeted Kirby main,” he sniffs delightedly, fringe covering his eyes, “closeted Kirby main!”“Shut up, Boar!”Ingrid joins in, grinning. “Cranky because you’re a Kirby main, huh?”
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd & Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Ingrid Brandl Galatea & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius & Sylvain Jose Gautier, Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Mercedes von Martritz
Comments: 5
Kudos: 49
Collections: Sylvain Week 2020!





	1. girls

**Author's Note:**

> ch 1: dima knows the word thot. felix is a tsundere. dedue and ashe are on the low. ingrid is tired. sylvain loves his friends even when they call him a thot
> 
> im sorry if there are many stylistic issues!! if u can pls try to overlook them,,,,,,,,, i tried my best to fix them!!!!!

Sylvain knew his way around every single girl's heart, as long as she was looking for a boyfriend. (If she wasn't either, he knew his way to escape the dire situation, having accidentally hit on someone superfluously.)  
He's well-versed in pickup lines, cheesy and serious alike. _I’m lost. Can you give me directions to your heart?_ Or I _was wondering if you had an extra heart. Mine was just stolen_. Or literally dozens of other scenarios, like making out with a girl in town or how to comfort a girl when she was crying... 

But none of these mattered, at this point. Because he knows so well that all they ever see in him is the Crest of Gautier, and nothing else; the games he plays with crowds of faceless women are unpleasant in the back of his head, insecurity rearing its ugly head once more. It's like he means nothing; and yet it's for he does. His personality, or face, or anything else doesn't matter, as long as he is the bearer of the crest.

"Sylvain! Wait up!" Ingrid hurries after him, footsteps arguing about. "Don't you dare flirt with more girls!"  
"Guilty as charged," he replies, laid-back, arms crossed behind his head.  
Dimitri follows promptly, with Dedue and Ashe lagging behind. "We truly don't need more casualties, I'd say." and he chuckles, breathlessly and reckless, just like he did when they were kids.  
"I have to agree with the boar for once." Felix mutters under his breath, barely audible. 

"I guess it's not our fault that Sylvain can be... uhm, what did Claude call it... Yes! A thot."

Sylvain's eyes widen at the sudden mutiny, and at Dimitri's knowledge of modern lingo. "A-A thot?" He feigns wounds, clutching his chest. "How could I ever anticipate such a betrayal, O His Highness!"  
Everyone around chuckles a little, and he earns a few playful (and slightly painful) nudges from Ingrid and Felix as Dimitri just smiles at all of them fondly and awkwardly.

"Felix, my love! Please help me escape this bullying!" he throws his arms around the shorter man, knowing full well what's about to come: a punch, that is. It seems Felix had some mercy, as evidenced by Sylvain's pain not numbing his face. Ingrid, meanwhile, exasperatedly giggles.

Byleth calls out to them from the front. "Students, don't be late! We only get field trips once in a while."

And now, as Sylvain is surrounded by people and faces he sees everyday, something warm blooms in his chest. He winks at Felix, and the latter huffs, turning away, as the rest seem not to notice this.  
As he is around people he's known for ages and people he hasn't known for long, something tells him he matters, even despite his antics and the current pain in his jaw.

Maybe there is more to him than a crest.


	2. study

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He then asks, tone hopeful, “Hey, Professor wouldn’t be really mad at us if some of us flunk again, right? Maybe we can do extra credit or whatever…”  
> This monologue gains him an elbowing from his raven-haired friend. “Ow, ow, Felix! I was joking!”
> 
> Or: the Blue Lions host a study session, and Sylvain has a mini-identity crisis. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I MIGHT OR MIGH T NOT HAVE BEEN STUDYING FOR MY GEOMETRY TEST WHILE WRITING THIS WSREDTYGUIJOKPL[;]' IM SORRY

"Look! According to that theorem, X will be equal to that one angle multiplied by the square root of two, see! X equals L by square root two!"

Ingrid's words made little to no sense.  
Felix scribbles something down in his notebook, draws a graph of some figures; Dimitri takes notes from the book and his friend’s tutelage, sticking his tongue out in the process. The Blue Lions all gathered in the common room - because “ _study sessions are fun, right?”_

And most of them are failing geometry, but that’s a story for another day, Sylvain thinks.

He then asks, tone hopeful, “Hey, Professor wouldn’t be really mad at us if some of us flunk again, right? Maybe we can do extra credit or whatever…”

This monologue gains him an elbowing from his raven-haired friend. “Ow, ow, Felix! I was joking!”   
Mercedes just laughs quietly, adding onto Ingrid’s speech. “I think that’s called the… 45-45-90 triangle theorem.” Almost everyone keeps writing it down; Sylvain proceeds to space out again. He was so busy going out to town on dates with girls he’d barely got enough time to study. “Remember - the hypotenuse equals the leg multiplied by square root two.”  
Ashe beams at her warmly. “Thanks, Momcedes.” Everyone in the room seems to brighten up at that, for a bit. 

“Sylvain,” the older girl calls out to him, “do you need any help studying? I finished geometry years ago, so…”  
“U-uhm, no, thanks. It’s fine.”

Beside him, he feels Felix frown, but pays no mind, however. The soft scowl on Mercedes’ face doesn’t help, either; and yet Sylvain decides to try his best to study, at least for his friends’ sakes. He didn’t seem to be in the mood for anything lately, ever since he got a harsh scolding from some girl he tried to take out on a date. She mentioned something about not being himself, and rather parading about with a mask shrouded over his face; a subterfuge of a person. 

Sylvain really wonders if he is one.

“What’s with the face?” he finds Felix pouting at him, brows furrowed. The redhead opens his mouth as though to say something, and yet, it is in vain; nothing comes out, like he’s just choking for air. “Sylvain! You should just focus on this, you know. Whatever worries you comes last. Do some work, will you?”  
Taken aback by this sudden gesture, Sylvain is once more at a loss of words. Gulping, he instead switches to showcasing his charismatic persona once more. “Aww, that’s so sweet of you! When’d you start liking me, Felix?”

Was that what she meant by faking his personality?

The latter just huffs and turns away; the slight blush on his cheeks amuses Sylvain to no end, but in an affectionate way. Ingrid seems to have noticed this, and gives them a tired, but fond smile; Dimitri seems to have unintentionally mimicked that expression, watching his childhood friends bicker again.  
Ingrid comes to the rescue with her math terminology. “And look, if the triangle has angles like 30-30-90… the hypotenuse is twice the length of the short leg. The long leg is the short leg times square root three.”  
Everyone keeps writing her words down like scribes, and this town, Sylvain joins in. For the time being, he can allow himself not to worry about girls and dates and “faking.”

Two days later, he gets a paper back from Professor Byleth. 

“I got a C! Yesss, I passed!”  
“Just how stupid this guy is,” Felix mutters next to him, a small smile coming across his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DO TALK TO ME ON TWITTER IM @mugemugemoo


	3. red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3: Red  
> “For Sothis’ sake, Sylvain. You could’ve died right there.” he looks away in an emotion the redhead can’t seem to comprehend. “Mercedes healed you on the battlefield, but you didn’t come to. So we carried you here.”  
> Sylvain looks around and finds himself in the infirmary. Makes sense, he thinks.  
> “Aww, so did you actually care about me?” Sylvain teases, hoping that will relieve some of the tension in the room. “That’s so swe- Shit.”
> 
> Or: Felix (not so) reluctantly patches Sylvain up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM A SYLVIX SLUT IM SORRY
> 
> also ugh! i jinxed myself! sylvain got a C on his test in the prev chapter and today i come to geo class and see. i got a C on the test. needless to say my gpa is no longer the glorious 3.95 :(((

It’s not Sylvain’s first time in battle, but it hurts damn well. 

The old gashes on his skin beneath the robes and armor hurt once more, leaving gaps of red on his clothes; Sylvain only grips the lance in his hands tighter, thrusting and jabbing it into the enemy fliers as he makes another maneuver atop his horse. His breath catches in his lungs, a wheezing sound coming out of the back of his throat as another sword finds its way into his yet warm body - he cuts the opponent with a silver lance in turn and doesn’t stop until they’re defeated, body lying on the ground like some twisted marionette. And the world paints itself red.  
The young man keeps on pushing through; the battlefield can no longer be compared to his various outings with different women. That, he now thinks, is a distraction from the depth of loneliness getting to him; and this is a straight-up slaughterhouse, a game of death and mercy. 

He hasn’t witnessed the latter occur much. 

A mage aims somewhere - Goddess, are they aiming for him? - and as soon as they cast the ball of dark magic, Ingrid shields him from the oncoming attack. Having inflicted little damage, the magic user is soon taken down as the blonde young woman shouts.   
“Careful, Sylvain!”

He mustn’t let loose. He can always go and goof around, but not now; not now when lives - both his and of his dear ones - are at stake. And thus he again takes up his arms and gallops down Gronder field, even though his vision blurs slowly - he sees Ashe aim at a pegasus knight across from Dimitri, who almost rampages the enemy forces; Sylvain himself makes his way down to the reinforcements coming in from the left flank, and he, with the Professor, corner the several swordsmen around.   
He still doesn’t enjoy murder. The first time he’d killed someone in Zanado, he thought: _it’s for the best. It’s for the best. Everybody dies, and that’s OK. Maybe this deed will make girls like you! Perhaps it’ll make your father proud!_

But the dull ache in his breast never went away, even as he killed countless bandits out in the field. He hauls over a spear at one of the people armed with axes and holds his breath unconsciously; _breath, Sylvain, breathe. It’s either you or them._  
(And sometimes, he wishes it’d be him.)

In a whirlwind of blades, Sylvain never notices his lance stabbing someone in their arm or in their chest; among it he, too, never realizes someone’s almost pierced his body with a sword, until he feels an uncomfortable warmth growing in his solar plexus.  
“Sylvain? Are you OK?!”  
He fends off the last of the warriors, and before anyone else can rush over to him, Mercedes is there, chanting something and holding a staff. Her blurred face is the last thing he sees; the ground beneath him is surprisingly warm and soaked in red.

***

When he awakens, Felix frowns above him.  
“You’re such a dumbass.”  
“That’s a sweet welcome-back, Felix,” he huffs, laughing, as he sits back. Idly, he remarks the many bandages wrapped around his torso and arms, and hisses through his teeth upon feeling pain. It seems like he’ll be rendered motionless for a short while now. “Tell me, did I miss anything?”  
Felix’s facial expression, ever brusque and unwavering, gave out at this. He pouted a little, scowling at Sylvain as the latter tried his best to smile despite the heaviness in his lungs.

His childhood friend’s face and voice somehow soften for a second. “For Sothis’ sake, Sylvain. You could’ve died right there.” he looks away in an emotion the redhead can’t seem to comprehend. “Mercedes healed you on the battlefield, but you didn’t come to. So we carried you here.”  
Sylvain looks around and finds himself in the infirmary. Makes sense, he thinks.  
“Aww, so did you actually care about me?” Sylvain teases, hoping that will relieve some of the tension in the room. “That’s so swe- Shit.”

Hissing once more, he notices the red marks in his bandages. Looks like he’s bleeding a bit, again; this must have been caused by his somewhat excessive moving. The infirmary bed sheets, usually snow-white, now gradually turned a brilliant crimson, slightly reminiscent of the soil he fell upon, bloodied.  
“Stay still.” Felix narrows his eyes as he unwraps the bandages carefully, touching Sylvain’s skin as though he’d break him; it almost makes his heart flip. Almost.

The swordsman examines the wound at a glance. “I can’t stitch you up, you’ll have to ask Mercedes or Linhardt. But what I can do,” he goes on, quiet, “is this.”  
Suddenly, Sylvain feels something slick and soothing on his back; the pain from Felix’s touches isn’t sharp, so he assumes the ointment - or whatever he’s rubbing on him - is for the bruises and such.   
“That feels good.”  
“S-Shut up.” Felix’s face heats up, and Sylvain knows so by his tone; he snickers. “I could always just leave you untreated until the next healer comes. And that’ll be in a few hours.”  
“OK, OK, I take the innuendo back!” he throws his arms up and groans upon the pain.  
“Idiot.”

After a few minutes, his back feels a tad less sore. Felix retreats to wash and dry his hands, leaving Sylvain in his sweet dust; the latter now thinks his heart drops to his stomach for a reason unknown. Ever since they were kids, there was something about Felix he couldn’t quite pinpoint: something that has drawn them together, even when led astray and asunder. And the feeling of Felix next to him, so warm and yet so cold, excited him so.   
When his friend comes back, Sylvain drawls, “Sooo, what made you bother to come all the way here?”  
“No reason.” he stood there, straight-faced.  
“Nah, I’m sure there was one.” Sylvain winks at him, reveling in Felix’s flustered angry face. “So come on! Spill the tea.”  
“I…” he started, and yet cut himself off the track, pursing his mouth. “You could’ve died there, Sylvain.”  
“So? Do you care that much?” the moment Sylvain said so, he knew: he messed up.

Felix tensed a bit. “How… Why would you ever say I _don’t_ care, you dumbass?”  
Sylvain’s gaze softened for a second. It seems he got Felix figured out, at least partially. Ever since Glenn’s death and ever since they grew up, he’d thought they were drifting apart; it turns out they were always closer than ever.  
And when he pulls Felix into a hug, the younger man’s eyes widen for a moment. He stands still, like a feral cat cornered, and slowly, hesitantly wraps his lean arms around Sylvain’s back, ever so carefully.  
“You’re such a dumbass.”

The red of his blood stopped leaking out on the sheets a while ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think my writing lacks in sincerity, emotion, and descriptive imagery. id like to hear yalls thoughts on this bc i really need help improving, and tysm for reading this!^^  
> if you wish to talk to me on twitter im @mugemugemoo


	4. memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you wish everything’d stay as peaceful as it once was?”  
> Felix’s dark navy hair flowed carelessly, caressed by the morose autumn wind; the two young men’s limp limbs, like sad ragdolls, found their way back to each other. Just like when we were kids, Sylvain mused. “Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gay people existence confirmed 1181
> 
> ok anyways! im still a sylvix slut whats up  
> i wrote this instead of fixing my research essay
> 
> TW there's a minor reference to child physical abuse. yknow miklan. also ive never played blue lions BUT i did recruit sylvain in all my playthroughs and im p sure miklan only started being an asshole bc of the whole crest thing? yeah

_ The meadow where the four of them rest; the forest they claimed as a playground; the fireflies lighting the way as Dimitri and Ingrid bravely explored the path to find their way home, Felix clinging to Sylvain’s shoulder; the smell of pine cones and mud and petrichor, deep in his lungs, and the sounds of children playing; the old Gautier estate, with all of his friends over at night, tending to the stables; the way Felix shuddered when the thunder rolled, and then denied being scared with the most adorable pout on his face; the first time he decided to flirt with a girl, just for fun, and ended up being in for the ride to distract himself; the news of King Lambert’s passing; Miklan’s face, scarred and scowling, as he inflicts yet another blow- _

Sylvain bolts upward upon his awakening. It seems to still be dark outside; it’s been a while since he’d had a nightmare, all thanks to his good old friend, repression of emotions.  
Rubbing his face, he waddles idly to the bathroom to wash his face.

_ “What makes you think you’re so much better than me, huh?!” _

Miklan,  _ he wanted to say,  _ just because I have a Crest doesn’t mean you’re worse. Don’t listen to our parents,  _ how come he couldn’t say that? _ Big bro, let’s just go back home. Please keep teaching me how to ride horses, your lessons are helping me a lot. Please, stop this. Let’s come home together.  _ All these years he’d wanted to say that so badly, but something kept scratching at his lungs, batting the oxygen out of him; so for all these years all he did was stare, dumbfounded, as his thoughts lolled somewhere amongst his mind’s trickiest shadows. And Miklan never stopped - their sparring sessions made Sylvain fret for his life; every time he fell asleep, a thought never let go of him, smothering him:  _ will he kill me tonight? 

Shaking his thoughts off with an exasperated sigh, the redhead proceeded to wash his face in relative silence. Heading outside, he thought idly as he put on some warmer clothes, wouldn’t be too bad of an idea. And as he left his dorm room for a walk, Sylvain’s face, still somewhat damp, was hit by the cold, ruthless wind; when they were younger, Ingrid would get mad at him.  _ You’ll get sick, Sylvain,  _ she would chide, even as a child. A tiny smile of nostalgia crawling up onto him flowed onto his lips at the memories.  


If only they were children again.

“Sylvain? What are you doing here?” A certain someone stood there, training sword in hand. Felix’s voice seemed less macabre and more delicate than usual, so the memories overtook Sylvain again:  _ the sparring sessions they had as kids, the way Felix ugly cried at being hurt by Dimitri during training. The way their wooden swords always clashed, and the way he’d lose to Ingrid a lot. The soft Faerghan grass he would feel upon being defeated, or upon which he’d roll when play-fighting-  _

“Sylvain. I asked you a question.”   
His amber eyes were directed towards the older man, cast upwards and gaze focused. Sylvain forced a goofy smile. “Just… takin’ a walk! You know, like healthy people do!”  
“At four in the morning?”  
The smile barely faltered. “Well, what’re you doing here?”  
“Training.”  
Sylvain nodded in quiet comprehension. “Working yourself off, I see?” he winked (as a defense mechanism, almost); Felix just pursed his lips.  
“Did something happen? You look lost in thought.”  
“Ah, you know me so well!” Sylvain, once more, feigned a dramatic flare. He felt something in his chest shudder a tad. “Yeah, just going outside for a walk. Had some things on my mind.”  
A flicker of warmth flashed across Felix’s eyes. “What a rare occurrence.”  
“Hey now!” Sylvain stuck his tongue out. “Actually, Felix… d’you ever think about our childhood?”

The swordsman only replied with a short “hmph.”  
“Do you wish everything’d stay as peaceful as it once was?”  
Felix’s dark navy hair flowed carelessly, caressed by the morose autumn wind; the two young men’s limp limbs, like sad ragdolls, found their way back to each other. _Just like when we were kids,_ Sylvain mused. “Yes.”

"Do you miss Glenn, like back then?”  
“Do you miss Miklan, the way he once was?”

And they stood together, arm in arm, as the stars in the sky shifted, morphing into its true colors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *dies* stan carl jung


	5. dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 5 - dance  
> People from around the ballroom gaze at the two of them pirouetting amongst the couples, moving so lightly and in-sync some jaws are dropped.   
> "It seems we make quite the couple, eh, Felix?"  
> "Shut the fuck up," the man in question replies, "you started this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> waerestdyugiojpk[pli;ouiyutrtewtdrfytguhyjlk;l im sorry

“And the winner of this year’s heron cup is… The Blue Lion’s Sylvain Jose Gautier!”

Sylvain flashed a toothy grin towards the audience, winking at a few ladies whose gaze was inexplicably glued to him. (He’ll have to thank the professor later on: not only did he have fun, but it might have earned a few more potential girls to pursue!)  
He twirls around a bit in his new robes, enjoying the tingling of numerous accessories and the sparkles across the ballroom. Garreg Mach is lit up by thousands of candles and chandeliers tonight, nobility and other students swaying softly beneath the luminosity.   
Every single one of his classmates is dancing interchangeably, with strangers and friends alike, smiles of different kinds - from somewhat heartbroken to absolutely jolly - plastered across the faces. A few stand in corners, reveling in the glorious feast and drinks provided by the monastery tonight. He thinks it funny, how he would normally give away his own soul for the concept of a ball being held in his proximity, but now that he is in attendance of one, he only covets to get away. It is honestly unusual for Sylvain not to enjoy parties and such, but here he was.

“Care for a dance?” Mercedes approaches him, face shining and seeping with bright compassion. “Your outfit is really nice, too.”  
He smiles back, unabashed. “Sure!”  
Being a noble, Sylvain was honestly extremely used to extravagant, lavish events. So his grip on Mercedes’ shoulder and waist doesn't let up as they twirl and spin in small four-step squares, enjoying themselves. As for Sylvain, he could always use this opportunity to flirt or wink at Mercedes - and he doesn't, because the atmosphere between them is so amicable he suddenly wishes not to ruin it. And at the end of the song, she smiles at him, debonair and mysterious.

"Go talk to Felix."

And he does, approaching his old friend who's been avoiding him tonight like the plague. In wide strides, he quickly makes his way towards Felix, and-  
"Spare a dance?"

Before he himself even knew it, Sylvain was kneeling in front of his friend, a crap-eating grin plastered across the redhead's face. He swears Felix almost smashes his glass cup of punch in his fist, clenching his jaw. _"What the fuck are you doing, you dumbass,"_ he scowls, hissing through gritted teeth.   
"It's not polite to keep a person waiting," Linhardt chimes in from the sidelines; Sylvain can see it's not helping, and tries to further hide his smirk. "So, what do you say?"  
_I'll kill you_ , he mouthes, but his eyes are softer than it seems. "Fine," he places his hand atop Sylvain's as the latter smiles once more, "lead the dance."

For someone spitting out poison, there's a surprising amount of fondness in the creases of his brow as the older one of the two takes him carefully by the waist, softly commencing their waltz. It seems they had drawn more attention than they have wished for; Byleth is smirking at Sylvain and Felix from afar, their grin toothy and satisfied. Many students seem to stare at them for a while, also.  
People from around the ballroom gaze at the two of them pirouetting amongst the couples, moving so lightly and in-sync some jaws are dropped.   
"It seems we make quite the couple, eh, Felix?"  
"Shut the fuck up," the man in question replies, "you started this."  
They swivel and twirl through, four-step waltzing motions set off; that is, until a certain point.

"Sylvain," the younger man hissed, "you stepped on my fucking toe."  
"Sorry, princess!"   
And that, in turn, caused his foot to be trampled wrathfully by the already worn soles of Felix's polished shoes. Sylvain grimaces, "Jeesh! I'm sorry, okay?"  
Seemingly satisfied, Felix hums; and they dance, breathless and panting, a blur of orange and purple, right until the orchestra stops.  
And it takes a while for them to recover. Felix's stamina, ever so swift, recovers immediately with his breaths; but Sylvain pants for some time, grinning widely. "Shouldn't we do this again?"

The swordsman replies bluntly, "No."

"A shame. The two of you make quite a lovely pair." Byleth reappears out of nowhere, their face twisted in what the students could only assume to be an attempt at a smile. "On the battlefield, obviously; but in the ballroom, no less."  
The shorter man scowls a bit as his friend chuckles.

Felix lets his damp hair loose, and Sylvain wolf-whistles teasingly. "Damn, you like that better than training?"  
"Don't make me step on your foot again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmu on twitter??? idk sdfghjk im new to it @mugemugemoo


	6. brother / warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day 6: brother / warmth
> 
> There had been a time, once, when Miklan’s touch did not bring the razor-sharp pains it later did; when his caress was more expected than a blunt force trauma; a time where Sylvain could look his brother in the eye and fear not for his life.  
> Alas, that time has passed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!! BIG TWs for uhh. MIKLAN. I mention some child abuse (mostly physical) towards sylvain because miklan is a fucking ass

There had been a time, once, when Miklan’s touch did not bring the razor-sharp pains it later did; when his caress was more expected than a blunt force trauma; a time where Sylvain could look his brother in the eye and fear not for his life.

Alas, that time has passed. 

_“Miklan, please don’t.” his voice sounded so small, so belittled and scared. “Please don’t. Let’s go home together, Miklan, please.”_   
_“Listen here, you little shit.” the burns of his punches hurt so much Sylvain’s vision starts blurring and smudging towards the darkening edges. “You’re the reason I’m fucking suffering. You’re fucking useless aside of your crest, y’know that?! You’re better off dead, you moron!”_   
_His brother’s grip on his neck tightens, short fingernails digging into the sensitive skin. He knows Miklan will leave marks; he wonders, though, whether their parents will ever notice._

 _The next day, he greets his friends warmly, smiling behind his facade._   
_Ingrid suddenly looks worried, “Sylvain?” she frowns, calling his name out, “Are you okay?”_   
_“You have something on your neck,” softly adds Dimitri as he brushes his bangs out of the way. “It looks like… bruises.”_   
_All of his blood drains from his face. “No, i-it’s fine! I’m really okay.”_

_(There will come a day to mourn this inattentiveness; and yet, the children could not see it in hindsight for all their innocence.)_

_“Get away from Sylvain,” Felix once threatened his brother with a wooden practice sword aimed right at the throat, “I-I’m gonna protect him now!”_   
Don’t, _he thought back then,_ Miklan will hurt you.   
_And he did. And he was, subsequently, disowned - not after the cruel treatment of his own sibling, but rather when the troubles he brought transcended those of house Gautier._   
_He still remembers like the two of them patched each other up with alcohol rub and cotton swabs, awkward hands plastering bandaids all over the cuts. It hurt, but back then, it seemed fun, because it was with Felix._

And now, when Miklan was a beast, it all dawned upon Sylvain he did not see his brother’s - _no, the beast’s_ \- flailing attack; Ingrid rushed in with her battalion instead, diverting what was left of Miklan’s attention.   
_“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed back then, “Glenn told me what happened- I- I should have been more attentive.”_   
_“That’s OK.” he smiled sadly at the blonde girl back then, dark eyes meeting emerald. “It wasn’t your fault.”_   
_“But it wasn’t yours, either. Miklan chose to hurt you.”_   
He swallowed the tears back then, and he still does.

And when Miklan was all but ashes and dust and a certain weak body laying on the ground, Sylvain steadied his composure. He wished not to see the remains of his once-kin; all he wanted was to live a happy life, free of Crests and brotherly wounds.   
He meets Dimitri’s gaze, suddenly; the prince was feral in battle, as always, although the look in his eyes does seem softer now. Dimitri puts his hand on his shoulder gently, and all but whispers, “I’m sorry.”

 _“I’m sorry,” Felix sobbed back then as they fixed each others’ bruises and cuts._   
_“I’m sorry,” choked back Ingrid after discovering what has transpired._

_I’m sorry_ s had a phony feel to them, usually, being hollow formalities. But now, when Sylvain’s heart aches and beats, he thinks these words specifically had a particular ring, a warmth to them.

A warmth of familiarity, and the sweet tingling in his chest at memories he would like to resurface.


	7. free day: modern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7: free day - modern
> 
> Felix shakes his blue joycon in triumph. “This is no game for half-baked novices, Sylvain. You fucking suck at smash.”  
> “Yeah, at least I can play Tekken, you closeted Kirby main!”  
> Dimitri’s shoulders shake in chuckles. “Closeted Kirby main,” he sniffs delightedly, fringe covering his eyes, “closeted Kirby main!”  
> “Shut up, Boar!”  
> Ingrid joins in, grinning. “Cranky because you’re a Kirby main, huh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS JUST THEM PLAYINF SMASH OK. IM LATE FOR ONE DAY YES IK BUT SCHOOL KILLED ME SREDTYGUIOP[
> 
> thank u ferdibert discord for advising me on their mains...................

“Red Team wins!”

On-screen, Meta Knight and Zelda show off as the announcer shouts; in real life, a dejected Sylvain groans. In the lower part of the screen, Mario and Bayonetta clap.    
Dimitri’s face goes blank for a second. “Well, this was a nice match. Well played, everyone.”   
“You don’t have to get so worked up over Smash,” Ingrid chimes in, a satisfied smile on her face, “we weren’t playing competitively anyway.”

Felix shakes his blue joycon in triumph. “This is no game for half-baked novices, Sylvain. You fucking suck at smash.”   
“Yeah, at least I can play Tekken, you closeted Kirby main!”   
Dimitri’s shoulders shake in chuckles. “Closeted Kirby main,” he sniffs delightedly, fringe covering his eyes, “closeted Kirby main!”  
“Shut up, Boar!”   
Ingrid joins in, grinning. “Cranky because you’re a Kirby main, huh?”   
Felix stands up, huffing in what seems to be annoyance.   
“Felix bullying time!”

“Fuck you, Sylvain!”

***

In the common room, a crowd gathered in front of the TV.

“Blue Team wins!” This time, it’s Claude and Hilda fist bumping each other as Ike and Joker posed while Lysithea and Leonie sighed.   
“And that’s it for round two,” Dimitri hums pleasantly, taking notes. “Next up is… Sylvain and Felix, versus Ashe and Dedue!”

“Don’t mess up,” the raven-haired boy looks up to his friend, “this is it.”   
“It’s the final countdown…” Sylvain answered, singing badly. “Doodoodoo do, doodoo doodoo doo!”   
“Fuck you.” hissed Felix.   
Sylvain picks Bayonetta once more, and Felix, this time, decides to go with Kirby - a decision that makes the redhead chuckle until his friend’s fist almost got shoved up his face. Ashe, being the savage sweetheart he is, chooses Pit; Dedue, however, plays as Snake.

This seems rather balanced, or so Sylvain thinks. He’s not very good at competitive Smash.   
The announcer’s voice booms, loud and clear, “Three… Two… One… GO!”   
The map is Final Destination. Kirby sucks up Snake’s powers fast, gaining an amusing headband with a goatee as he throws up a bomb; Sylvain fires as rapidly as he can at Ashe’s Pit in attempts to keep him at bay. (Get it? At  _ Bay _ onetta.) He also falls down a couple of times while Felix stays in one piece, leaving Sylvain at one available life out of three. He gulps in suspense.   
That is, until a Final Smash arrives, floating.

“Holy shit!! Dedue, can you get it? Should I do that?”   
“As you wish, Ashe!”   
(From the couch, a surprised Dorothea speaks. “Did… Did Ashe just curse?)

And the world comes unto a standstill until-

Bayonetta glows colorful as Felix smirks. “Press B!! Come on!”   
And so he does. Time slows as Sylvain throws punches at a slowed-down Pit and Snake; Ashe inhales from beside them, trembling, as Dedue’s brows furrow.   
The gauge is filled. Gomorrah appears, looking ready to devour enemies as Pit’s health drops dramatically down to 200% until he flies away for the final time. The freckled boy groans, falling onto his back. “I’m sorry.”   
“It’s alright,” Dedue falls down once, leaving him in an unfair, 2v1 situation. However, he has two lives; Sylvain has one, and Felix has already been reduced to two.   
Snake throws a pipe bomb, and with that, Bayonetta smashes against the screen. “God damnit.”   
He can’t even think: all the redhead does is watch his friends mash buttons as they both sweat, until-

“Red Team wins!”   
It’s Pit and Snake, cheering at the audience. Bayonetta and Kirby just applaud from the sidelines.   
Felix throws the joycon in the trash as he walks away, Sylvain scrambling after him. The rest gathered, once more, in front of the television.

“Hey, Felix, you know it’s just a-”   
“I had fun,” he turns to face Sylvain, expression blank, “for the first time, I actually did. Maybe it’s because you were less dumb this time.”   
He spreads his arms. “Should I count this as a compliment?”   
Felix huffs, a smile blooming on his face, and Sylvain feels his heart skip a beat.


End file.
